


I Learned To Lie

by Hipsterpotomu5



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Death, F/F, Flirting, Gangster Fareeha, Guns, Mob Boss Angela, New York City, What a trio huh?, more characters and ships to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11563899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hipsterpotomu5/pseuds/Hipsterpotomu5
Summary: Love. Hate. Lies. Money. Drugs. Death. These are what fuels New York City in the late 1940s. Tensions between the Shimada family and the Ziegler mob are on the rise, while the Amari clan holds an uneasy truce with both sides. The police struggle to keep order over all three gangs. While Ana still runs the Amari clan, Fareeha is taking more and more responsibility. She has many important decisions ahead. Will she bring the Amari clan higher than its ever been? Or will it all come crashing down?





	I Learned To Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gangster AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/306114) by Risu. 



> Hey all! Usually I talk a lot here, but I'll keep it short. NYC is in a bit of a bubble in my fic, not a lot of interaction with the outside world. I'm going for mostly realistic to how stuff worked in the 1940s, with less racism and sexism lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

The upbeat tune of a big band came from the corner of the room, though it felt tinny coming from the radio. The big band was disappearing, being replaced by smaller groups, solo artists. It was a shame, really. Fareeha quite enjoyed the energy that a full ensemble brought. She tapped her foot to the beat, the slap of her shoe against the concrete floor echoing off the walls of the small room. Her foot bounced with more vigor, the music picking up to a climax. A moan drew Fareeha out of the music. Her eyes opened slowly, glowing with anger. “I thought I told you to be quiet,” she growled. 

The man’s eyes grew wide as he struggled back and forth, shaking his head and trying to speak. The cloth wrapped over his mouth made that a bit hard. Fareeha sighed, hooking her finger in the cloth and pulling it down to his chin. “What was that?”

“I’ll talk, ok? I’ll tell you what you want! Please!” Fareeha’s face remained neutral, though her eyes still bore anger. She cocked her head leaning in close to his face, a finger trailing along his face over bruises and small cuts. She wiped her finger on his neck.

“You had your chance to talk.” She pulled the cloth back over his mouth. He started pleading again, muffled cries under the cloth. Fareeha balled her fist and struck him just under his right cheek. “Now,” she drawled, “I want you to be quiet.” The man’s pleading stopped. Satisfied with his silence, Fareeha closed her eyes and returned to the music. 

It ended only a few seconds later, and Fareeha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now see, you made me miss the song.” Fareeha’s left hand shot out, connecting on the man’s jaw. She pulled the pocketwatch from her slacks, clicking her tongue at the time. “I have some business to attend to.” She eyed the roped binding the man’s torso and legs to the chair, and smirked. “Don’t go anywhere.” She turned, heading through the door to the little interrogation room. Up two sets of stairs she went, emerging in the backrooms of the warehouse she was in. 

She locked the door of the small room the stairs were contained in, then made her way through the halls until she was at the back sorting area. A few grunts were going through a thick duffel bag. They all turned to Fareeha as she approached. “Ms. Amari. It’s all here, ready to go.” The one who spoke opened the bag for Fareeha to look in, but she simply nodded.

“I won’t check. I trust you, that you won’t  _ fuck _ me over like Smith tried.” She tilted her head, an easy smile coming across her face. “Because if you embarrass me in front of the Angel of Death, I’ll chop your cocks off and feed them to my dog.” She pat the grunt closest to her on his shoulder as she reached down to take up the bag. The grunts all shared a look of terror, which pleased Fareeha immensely. She turned to leave, looking back over her shoulder. “Behave while I’m gone, now. Don’t do anything that would force me to call Ummi.” She winked, and headed out of the warehouse. 

\---

It was a cold day in New York City, the month of April not yet shaking off the chills of winter. Fareeha took a deep breath through her nose, letting the air sting her lungs. She still delighted that the stench of shit no longer pervaded the city. It was all over the papers a few weeks back, the man with the mountain of fertilizer across the river had been arrested. The police had sat on their hands for years, breathing in the foul odor every day yet not shutting the operation down. Fareeha wasn’t particularly a fan of the police, but she was thankful that they finally removed the fertilizer seller and his stock. If there was one crime she didn’t support, it was the possession of such a large amount of shit. 

She reached into her back pocket for her cigarettes, trapping one between her lips and pulling it from the package. She slipped the carton back in her pocket and pulled out her lighter. She noticed the red gracing her knuckles as she held the flame under her cigarette. After placing the lighter back in her pocket, she observed her hands. Two split knuckles on her right hand, one on the left. The blood was a mix of hers and Smith’s. She smirked. The first impression was an important one, and showing up with bloody knuckles would certainly be memorable. 

It wasn’t going to be the first time she’d been face to face with the Angel of Death, but it would be the first time they spoke. She’d stood silent in the corner while her mother and the Angel discussed business, but never before had she been deemed important enough for attention. After she discovered Smith trying to steal today’s delivery, her mother decided it was time for that to change. ‘If you fuck this up,’ her mother had told her, ‘good that it happens sooner rather than later. Better to kill you now for your incompetence than when I’m old and need an heir.’ 

Fareeha huffed. Her mother had always been one for tough love. She’d also lectured Fareeha endlessly on the Angel of Death. How dangerous she was, how Fareeha must act in this way and that. The Amari heir was dangerous, too. She respected the Angel. But she feared no one. 

 

_ I can lie pretty well. _

 

As she walked the streets, she fell into the rhythm of clanging metal in the bag slung over her shoulder. Her product was small and light, one of her main selling points. A little smirk worked its way onto Fareeha’s face. She wasn’t worried about her meeting at all. 

She arrived at the Angel’s building, an impressive tower. There was no doubt why they were called skyscrapers. The doors were opened by two uniformed doormen. Fareeha walked into the lobby, noting the small bulges in their jackets. Nothing an average person would notice. Fareeha knew they were armed. Many eyes shifted to her as the banging metal in her duffel echoed in the lobby. She moved confidently to the receptionist, ignoring the stares. 

“Fareeha Amari to see-” 

“You’re two minutes late,” said the receptionist, cutting the Egyptian off. “How...disappointing.” The look of contempt on her face couldn’t have been clearer. Fareeha cursed internally, though she kept her features neutral. It would only be worse to show signs of being flustered. There was a silence between them, the receptionist perhaps waiting to see if she’d draw a reaction from Fareeha. When she got none, she spoke again. “Take the elevator all the way on the right.” Fareeha nodded and turned, letting out a small breath as she moved to the elevator. It opened as she got within three steps, a very large and angry looking man standing inside. He was armed, too. Fareeha didn’t need to look for bulges in clothing this time. He held a pistol openly. 

Fareeha flashed a toothy grin as she entered the elevator. His face kept its resting anger, not even giving her a blink. He pressed a button on the wall, and the doors slid closed. A moment later, there was a small shake as the elevator began moving. Downward, Fareeha noted. The elevator moved slow. Were it not for the initial jolt, she’d not have known it was moving at all. She pulled the watch from her pocket, shaking her head.  _ Two minutes late, my ass. _ She took a slow, deep breath. Just mind games. Tests. She stored her pocketwatch and patiently waited for the elevator to reach its destination. 

It came to a gentle stop, and the door opened. Fareeha found a hallway in front of her, two more armed men at the end, standing guard with a closed door just beyond them. Fareeha stepped out of the elevator, feeling that the guard from the elevator followed her out. She was a few steps away from the guards at the end of the hall when one held out a hand. Fareeha stopped moving, letting a bored look take over her face. “Strip,” the guard said. “We have to search you for weapons.”

Fareeha sighed. If she knew she’d be getting a strip search, she’d have worn looser clothes. She shrugged the duffel off her shoulder, holding it out to the guard who sported a scruffy beard. “Might want to look at this, then.” He took it, placing his rifle down to open the bag. Fareeha folded her jacket, quickly undoing her bow tie. The guard going through the bag laughed. 

“The hell is this? Some kind of toy?” He held up a slim metal gun, much smaller than the rifles they were using. 

Fareeha shrugged off her dress shirt, bending down to remove her shoes. The guard not preoccupied with the duffel had his rifle aimed at Fareeha, waiting for her to make a move. She placed her socks inside her shoes, standing to unbutton her slacks. She smirked. “It may look like a toy. But they call it The Annihilator.”

The guard watching over her laughed as he looked down at his rifle. “I think I’d take this over that little peashooter any day.” The bearded guard nodded in agreement.

Fareeha stood, now wearing only her Eye of Horus necklace, a bandeau and a pair of cotton step-ins. “Good thing you aren’t paid to think,” she said, giving them a withering look. Just then, the door swung open. All three looked up to see the Angel of Death standing before them. 

 

_ I love you _

 

She gave Fareeha a sly smile. “I didn’t know you were knowledgeable about what I pay my guards for.” She took a step forward, resting her hand on the bearded guard’s shoulder. “Pack that up and go inside, will you?” He nodded, and the Angel turned to the other guard. “You can go inside as well.” He opened his mouth to argue,  but she gave him a pointed look. He thought better of talking back, and followed the other guard through the door the Angel had come from. 

They closed the door behind them, leaving Fareeha Amari all alone with one of the most dangerous women on the planet, almost naked. A wolfish grin grew onto the blonde’s face. “Was I mistaken that they told you to strip?” Fareeha felt her cheeks grow hot, and she cursed herself internally for showing her fluster. She didn’t answer, just did her best to keep a neutral face. The Angel tilted her head, an amused smirk threatening to crack Fareeha. “They did say to strip then. So why are you still in your undergarments?” 

It took Fareeha a second to process what she said. That saved her from blushing harder than she already was. Fareeha  took a deep breath, forcing her pounding heart to ease. She grabbed the bottom of her bandeau, pulling the elastic wrap over her head. The Angel watched her with a hungry grin, licking her lips as Fareeha pulled her step-ins down and around her ankles. The  Egyptian stood, arms slack at her sides, giving the Ziegler boss a hard stare. She hated that the Angel had the upper hand, hated that she’d underestimated her ability to make Fareeha feel foolish. 

She’d been naked in front of plenty of men, and plenty of women. Done much more than just strip for them. It was the suddenness, the tension the receptionist had created, the predatory stare she was under from the Angel that made her uneasy. The blonde mob boss took slow, precise steps forward, moving around her like a wolf circling its dinner. Fareeha felt a finger trail from one shoulder to the other, sending a shiver down her spine. She could hear the Angel’s laugh, feel her amusement. “A strong one, aren’t you?” 

Fareeha let out an amused snort. Turning her head slightly to follow the Angel’s path around her, she replied, “There is no weakness beneath my mother’s eye.” The blonde finally stopped circling, standing in front of her again, this time half an arm’s length away. 

She leaned in, inspecting the necklace still around the Egyptian’s neck. Her breath tickled the tops of Fareeha's breasts as she asked, all too innocently, “Do you think you could kill me right now?” 

Fareeha cocked her head, studying the Angel’s face.  _ What game is she playing now? _ Well, Fareeha wouldn't lose this round. She put on a confident smirk and leaned down closer to the blonde, looking down into her eyes. “I could break you,” she said slowly, with a dangerous glint in her eye, “like a twig.” 

A light giggle was the Angel’s response, which drew Fareeha’s brows together. The blonde reached out, fingers gently lifting the Eye of Horus off of the Egyptian’s chest to inspect it closer. Fareeha’s heart slowed as fingertips brushed her skin. “It’s a good thing, then,” Ziegler started, “that we’re such good friends.” She turned her head up, giving Fareeha a sickly sweet smile, letting the Eye rest back against Fareeha’s chest. 

Fareeha gave her a dry smile in return. “I was unaware of our strong friendship, Angel.”

The blonde tilted her head, amusement gracing her face. “Angel of Death. Only those who fear me call me that. I much prefer friends to call me Mercy.” Fareeha only grunted in acknowledgement, so Mercy spun, opening the door. “Dress yourself, then, and come show me the toy you’ve brought.” She moved into the room beyond the door, pushing it closed behind her. 

Fareeha was still for a moment, taking in the silence that now surrounded her. It was a pleasant contrast to the thoughts clogging her mind, noise she found easier to ignore than to remove. She took her time dressing herself, assuring her bow tie was tied perfectly, her shoes spotless, and her pants without wrinkle. She paused at the door, taking in the last second of silence. With a deep breath, she opened the door and walked through. Mercy was standing, holding the gun with an all too innocent grin on her face. The kind a child would have upon getting a puppy. Not the kind an adult with a dangerous weapon would have. 

“I must say, this is quite a change from what we’ve used.” 

Fareeha walked to stand beside her, reaching into the duffel on the ground to pull a magazine out. She held out her hand, and Mercy handed the gun over. “They refer to it as a submachine gun.” The magazine was loaded as she spoke. “They’ve been popular farther west. Armories out there are much easier to raid.” She handed the gun back to Mercy, who grinned as she inspected it further.

“Much lighter than the Brownings.” Fareeha nodded. The blonde gave her a little smirk. “I think I could even fire this easily.” Fareeha’s eyes moved to the crude wood target on the other side of the room with a figure painted on it. If she looked hard enough, it began to look a bit like Mr. Shimada. That drew a little smile to her face. “May I?” Mercy asked, following Fareeha’s gaze. 

The Egyptian nodded, and Mercy braced the gun against her shoulder. The sounds of the gunfire echoed seemingly endlessly around the room. When the noise died down, Mercy turned back to Fareeha with a grin across her face. “I must say, Pharah Amari, you’ve brought me quite a nice gun. To think, you’ve said those lawless thugs out west have gotten to play with it already. Such a waste.” 

Fareeha didn’t respond, instead guiding Mercy to the magazine release. The empty cartridge clattered to the ground, and Fareeha held another to the blonde. She seemed to contemplate it, before taking it with a nod. “It works quite well on my little effigy, I will give you that.” Her happy grin turned dangerous, brows coming together in dark delight. “But I think I’d like a demonstration of its effects on a real person.” She held the gun up, and Fareeha found herself on the wrong end of the barrel. Mercy let out a devilish cackle, rapidly spinning before the gun sounded again. Despite her best efforts, Fareeha flinched away at the movement. 

When the gunfire ended, and Fareeha opened her eyes, she was greeted by two dead bodies and was pleased that neither of them were hers. Instead, it was the two guards that lay dead, bodies strewn violently across each other. Blood was splattered on the wall behind them, and there was a growing puddle surrounding the bodies. 

Mercy had burst out laughing when she looked back to Fareeha, and the Egyptian was silent for a moment, wondering if she should ask why the Angel had killed two of her men. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, the blonde spoke up. “It’s so hard to find good help these days.” She let out another quick laugh, shaking her head. “They honestly thought they could go behind my back, that I wouldn’t find out they were stealing from me.” 

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh in return. “The problem,” she said, following a little rivulet of blood that was trailing away from the larger pool, “is that they believe themselves to be smarter than we are. And they most certainly are not.” 

Ziegler nodded in agreement, mirth overtaking her face. She stepped closer to the Egyptian, that too-innocent smile back again. “I’m quite impressed, Pharah.” She looked down at the gun still in her hand smirking. “With the gun, as well.” Fareeha chuckled at that. “Do I get to keep it?”

Fareeha hummed, shaking her head. “Sadly, I have to take it back.” Mercy pouted just a bit. “I’m sure you and my mother will work something out.” 

Mercy looked down at the gun before handing it back to Fareeha. As she crouched to place it back in the duffel bag, Mercy said, “A shame. I was hoping to see more of you.” Fareeha zipped up the bag and slung it over her shoulder as she stood. 

She gave Mercy a devilish grin. “I assure you, this won’t be the last you see of me.” 

Mercy smiled. “I should hope not. Come, I’ll take you back to the lobby.” Fareeha followed her out of the room and down the hall, to where the elevator door was opened. The same menacing guard stood within. 

“Boss,” he said, nodding his head as she entered. He glared as Fareeha followed her in. The Egyptian paid him no mind. “It’s interesting,” Fareeha began as the elevator started to move, “what you said about finding good help. I have a very similar issue to the one you just dealt with.” 

“Oh?”

“Yes, but I prefer to deal with it a bit more...slowly.” They shared a grin that even had the burly guard shifting uneasily. “If you aren’t busy later tonight, I was wondering if you’d like to come have a bit of fun.”

Mercy chuckled, the elevator coming to a stop. “Sounds like you’re asking me on a date.” 

Fareeha exited the elevator and turned to face Mercy. “And if I am?”

“Sadly, work will have me occupied all day. Another time, perhaps.”

Fareeha nodded in return, and made for the exit with Mercy by her side. As one of the Angel’s henchmen held open the door for them, Fareeha reached into her pocket for her watch. She gave a satisfied hum and closed it, pushing it back into her pocket. Once outside and in front of Mercy’s building, Fareeha turned to her again. 

Ziegler’s attention, though, was behind Fareeha, on a man leaning against a lightpost. Her fists clenched, and what Fareeha might describe as a growl emerged from her throat. The Egyptian took a casual glance behind her, and smiled when she found who Mercy was glaring at. She turned back to the blonde. “It’s been a pleasure, Mercy. Sadly, I too have more business to attend to. Another time.” 

She turned on her heels, walking over to the man. He straightened up, meeting her halfway. “Genji Shimada,” she said, extending her hand. He took it in his own and gave a firm shake. 

“Pharah Amari,” he answered. He was about to say something else, but an angry voice behind Fareeha interrupted.

“What are you doing with  _ him _ ?” Mercy snarled. 

Fareeha peeked over her shoulder at the blonde, and at the sight of her anger, the Egyptian lit up in laughter. It was a bubbly kind of laughter, the kind you’d expect after your favorite joke. Her eyes crinkled and her shoulders shook, and she turned to face the Angel. “Did you think,” she said as her laughter died down a bit, “that this offer was exclusively yours?” She managed her laughter enough to draw a wicked grin across her face. “You may be beautiful, Angel, but that does not earn you special privilege. The Amaris have always done business with the Shimadas.” Fareeha cocked her head to the side. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

Fareeha turned and nodded to Genji, and the two began to walk down the street, the clacking of the metal parts in the duffel over the Egyptian’s shoulder fading as they moved further away from Mercy, leaving her there with her fists clenched, seething. 

  
_ I hate you. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Please let me know what you thought!!
> 
> And like always I made a playlist! Here's the link for Spotify and Youtube!  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/hipsterpotomu5/playlist/1chqquKhP4XfqPhbhNV0zE  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9snxycqH3DxcYoARbPB1YDRrwm7JZFnj


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